


cut from his strings

by macabre



Category: Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man - All Media Types, Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017), The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Trans, Body Dysphoria, Depressed Peter Parker, Eating Disorders, Gen, Tony Stark Acting as Peter Parker's Parental Figure, Trans Peter Parker
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-12
Updated: 2019-02-12
Packaged: 2019-10-27 02:22:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,088
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17757983
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/macabre/pseuds/macabre
Summary: Peter has to look away. He at first looks down at his hands, and he sees that the medical bracelet that they put on him is looped around twice. The hospital gown was swimming on him when he stood up, but that’s what they’re made to do. He’s not starved. He’s fine. He’s a good size.





	cut from his strings

The truth is, Peter never meant for it to be a thing. It starts with five pounds at the beginning of the school year when he’s not even paying attention. He hits the ground running that year between his course load, Decathlon, and he even takes up band again to make Ned happy. To push himself into happy college application territory, he takes on being president for the art club too last minute after the president elect doesn’t show back up that year. 

He’s so busy at school that he never ventures into the cafeteria - he’s always either in the art room or library working on some project. He brings something to munch on usually, but since he’s not supposed to be eating outside of the cafeteria he has to be covert about it. 

A month into school and he gets weighed for gym class, a system that MJ loudly laments about while waiting her turn in line. 

“Parker, you’re down a few pounds from last semester, kid,” coach says, writing it down on a clipboard. He frowns at Peter, clearly wants to say more, but doesn’t. When Peter looks at the scale, he can see for himself. He shrugs and thinks about what he can eat for dinner later that night.

Except later that night when Tony puts a whole pizza down in front of him, Peter can’t help thinking about that scale. At the time, it didn’t mean anything, but now, suddenly, looking at this pizza in front of him, it means everything.

Five pounds. Can Peter tell a difference? He stands in front of the mirror, and if he squints hard enough - maybe. Things are just a little bit easier the next day when he gets dressed. Suddenly, he’s a little less worried about everything. His classes are easy, he has extra time during the day with Ned due to band, and he even manages to make it through physics paired with Flash. 

He can’t believe it. 

So the next few nights, when Tony and Pepper put out whatever’s offered for dinner, Peter makes sure to take less. He’s still drinking his protein shake in the morning for breakfast, and he eats protein bars at school to make it through the day. He’s always starving by dinner, but after a couple of weeks, even his metabolism is starting to adjust at night so he doesn’t feel so ravenous. 

He loses another five pounds like it’s nothing. Of course, there are days when Peter can feel it. He’s on patrol and he has to stop and sit down for awhile. There’s a pain in his side or his head feels like it’s going to explode. Peter takes to chugging water nonstop throughout the day - it helps, in particular it keeps the headaches at bay.

Most of the time though, Peter feels fine, and he can tell a difference in the mirror now too. His clothes are a little baggier, and he no longer feels the need to obsessively look for the tightest binders he can. 

Tony can tell too, though, and he’s less enthused.

“Peter.” He sighs. Peter grimaces - he already feels guilty, and he doesn’t even know what Tony is about to say. “You’re looking a little - ”

Peter almost smiles - Tony is so bad at any kind of heart to heart. They could talk circles around each other all day every day, but when it comes to anything personal, it’s a real struggle for them both. Peter used to be better, but now he’s just as bad.

“Tired? I don’t know - run down.” Tony is gesturing a lot - he wants Peter to fill in the blanks for him.

“Yeah, you know there’s a lot going on at school, and I was tracking those leads down last week at night.” Peter shrugs. “I’ll skip patrolling tonight.”

And there’s another three pounds, he thinks. Three pounds less of baggage. 

Tony doesn’t say anything else. It’s rare for Peter to give up his nightly crusades, so Tony takes what he can get and the two of them curl up in front of some reruns that they could both quote line-for-line. Tony makes popcorn and milkshakes, but Peter only pretends to munch on them.

Instead, he slips sideways on the couch and pushes his head onto Tony’s knee. He feigns sleep long enough that Tony very lightly plays with his hair, which is what Peter really wanted. 

That and to avoid the extra snacks.

They start to pop up everywhere. Pepper is the culprit of the stuff that lands in his bag for school, but Tony starts unabashedly putting them on almost every corner of the penthouse. Even Ned pushes part of his mom’s home made specialities at him, things his friend knows he loves to eat, but it’s two pounds more into his journey. 

And it’s not like Peter isn’t eating. He’s just not eating as much.

Now when he looks into the mirror, he suddenly doesn’t see girly hips - he sees these bones that could be on anyone. His ribs are starting to stick out a little, but mostly it’s his chest that he loves, or lack thereof. 

His body is almost concave now. 

Some of his classmates even compliment his shirts now - old shirts that he has, but on a new body. For the most part, Peter feels unstoppable at school - it’s Spiderman that takes the blow. Peter just doesn’t have the energy to do it all, so instead of patrolling most nights, he goes out once or twice a week.

Instead, he spends time at Ned’s. Or, at least he bodily spends time with Ned. Mostly, he sleeps. A lot. He doesn’t mean to, but he’s so tired all the time. He makes it through his classes alright, but once he’s out of school he’s almost always unconscious. In the car while Happy drives. At home on the couch. On Ned’s poor golden retriever, Fred. 

He wakes up to Tony awkwardly hovering over him. Peter just blinks stupidly at him. He’s not even sure what day it is - Sunday, right? 

Tony pushes him down when Peter starts to fidget; it’s easy since he’s lost another four pounds. Tony slides his hand over Peter’s forehead. “Let’s just take an easy, alright?”

“I’m fine.” But Peter doesn’t move. He’s too tired, and it feels good to have Tony shifting him into his arms. Tony is nice and warm, and Peter is cold all the time. 

“Pete? Hey, Pete, can you listen up for a sec?” 

Peter hears him, he does, but he’s having an issue concentrating for some reason. It doesn’t matter, because he knows Tony will take care of him, whatever it is.

“Friday says your white blood count has been elevated the past week, so we’re going to run some tests, okay? You’re probably just fighting off a cold, huh?”

Tony’s carrying Peter in his arms, he realizes. It feels nice.

“I just need to be sure, bud. You just rest.”

Peter drifts away. 

When he wakes up, he’s in the MedBay, and he’s been striped into a hospital gown, he realizes. Immediately, he tries to get up - he wants his clothes back, but he can barely push himself out of the bed. He makes it shakily to his feet, but before he can go on the hunt for his items, Dr. Banner steps inside the room. 

“Whoa there, Pete! Let’s get you back to bed.” Dr. Banner is very gently with him, but there’s no fighting. Bruce has a firm grip on him, and for a brief moment Peter is scared of him.

“S-stop. I just want my clothes,” Peter struggles. He feels weak in more ways than one.

“Hey, don’t worry about it. I’ll get you some sweatpants, okay?” Dr. Banner smiles at him as he tugs the blankets around Peter, like he’s an actual infant. He’s tucked in quite tightly - it’s difficult for him to pull his arms out, but at least Dr. Banner can’t see too much of his body now. 

Almost immediately, Tony comes in through the door, and all at once Peter’s senses sharpen, because he realizes that something is wrong. Tony has this look on his face - he’s mad about something. Surprisingly, he doesn’t say anything, he just squeezes his way onto the bed with Peter and holds him to his chest.

“Are you okay?” Peter asks. 

“Am I okay?” Tony laughs. “Am I okay?” 

He, too, is hiding. He’s got a hand over his face, and then Peter sees the moisture that is dripping into his goatee. 

“What’s wrong?”

Tony wipes at his face then smiles at Peter. He places a light kiss into his hair. “Pete, I told you I’d take care of you, remember?”

Peter can’t say anything.

“I’ve been trying my best, but - ”

“You’ve taken great care of me!” Peter interjects, because he can’t stand to see him crying, and he’s not even sure why.

“Then what’s going on? Why are you starving yourself?”

Oh. 

Peter has to look away. He at first looks down at his hands, and he sees that the medical bracelet that they put on him is looped around twice. The hospital gown was swimming on him when he stood up, but that’s what they’re made to do. He’s not starved. He’s fine. He’s a good size.

“Peter.” Tony gently takes him by the chin. “What are you thinking?”

“Nothing.”

“Nothing?” 

“I’m not starving myself.” I’ve just lost a little weight is all, he thinks. That’s normal. 

“Peter, I’ve had FRIDAY track the amount of calories you eat while you’re home. You wanna take a guess?”

He doesn’t. 

“You’ve been eating a couple hundred every day here. I know you haven’t been eating much at school either. Do you know how bad that is for you? For anyone, but especially you? Peter - you are literally starving your body to death.”

Now Peter is crying. 

“No, I’m not.”

“You are. I need you to talk to me. What’s going on? Is this -” Tony pauses, lowers his voice, “Is this about your period?”

Peter can feel his face heat up. “No.” He’s quick to answer, but… “But I haven’t had one in months. Since September.”

Tony nods. Peter’s shots before stopped his period, but it started up again unexpectedly, which had made for a difficult summer. Tony’s done a lot to make him comfortable, but nothing has worked quite like Peter taking action into his own hands. 

“I feel -”

Tony waits, patiently. “Yes?”

“I feel like me. I guess. The way I want to.” 

Tony looks away, another tear coming loose. “Peter.”

“You can’t understand. What it’s like. When I look at the mirror now, I feel good. My chest!” Peter isn’t afraid to touch his flat chest in front of Tony now. 

“Peter. Do you feel more like you now, more than you when you’re Spiderman?”

Once upon a time, Peter told Tony that Spiderman was who he truly was. Peter Parker was the alias, the sidekick, the write off. Peter made Spiderman. From the ground up. No one will ever know the before Spiderman. Just the after. 

Tony had already seemed disappointed then. 

“I -” Peter frowns. He wants to say no, but he thinks of how much fun he had with MJ the other day. How confident he felt for the first time with a girl. 

“Oh, Peter.” Tony squeezes him to his chest. “We have plenty of options still.”

Please stop crying, Peter wants to say, but how can he make any demands right now? His body is trembling - he’s freezing, as usual, and he really just wants to go back to sleep, but he can’t.

“I’m fine,” he says, and before he can stop himself, he says it again. And again. I’m fine. I’m fine. I’m fine.

Tony doesn’t say anything, just smiles at him. It’s a watery smile. “You will be fine, Peter.”

It’s only after his initial hospitalization that he realizes it is a thing. Tony and Pepper put him on a strict eating schedule where they refuse to peel their eyes away from Peter. At school, it’s Ned who’s the gatekeeper. 

Ned is easier to persuade to stand down a little - after all, Ned has his own life and his own things to do during school. At home, it’s a nightmare though, and now Peter can at least acknowledge that he might be a little obsessive. At every meal and every snack, Peter makes to his room at the first chance he gets and examines his body in the mirror. His face is getting a little fuller, he realizes. 

The food that they’re feeding him is a lot of nutrient dense and freshly prepared items, the kind of stuff that Peter rarely ate before. He can acknowledge, in the back of his mind, that it all tastes good - it’s the quantity of it that makes him sick. 

His stomach cramps up easily, and it’s hard for him to keep it down. Tony tries to follow him into the bathroom when he gets sick, which leads to a squabble that ends in Peter not talking to Tony for a few days. 

“I know what you’re thinking, but I promise I’m not doing this on purpose!” Peter yells through the door, hunched over by the toilet, arms wrapped around his stomach. 

Nevertheless, Peter is on active watch. Like he wasn’t before, he scoffs. 

Outside of meal times, Peter takes to being alone in his room. He can’t stand the scrutiny he’s under. He’s not allowed to patrol until he gains another seven pounds back, and the thought of hanging out with Ned when his friend knows exactly what is going on is no longer appealing. Even MJ can’t tempt Peter out with a promise of a corny double feature. 

Suddenly, Peter does miss the old him. The one who could wander in and out of the workshop without second guessing himself. Now, he doesn’t even know what to talk about with Tony. There seems to be only one thing that matters, and it hangs over all of them constantly. 

One day, he gets so lonely that he decides to do his homework right outside the workshop door, creeping down quietly so Tony won’t see him. His luck strikes again though, because he falls asleep and wakes up only when Tony is trying to lift him off the ground. 

“Hey kid.” Tony scratches the back of his neck after Peter insists he doesn’t need to be carried. “Wanna watch something with me?”

He puts on a show that only Peter watches. He’s a season behind now, so Peter wraps up in a blanket and decides to really try and watch so he doesn’t have to think of anything to say. He also tries to ignore how Tony is only watching him. 

Of course, he falls asleep after a couple of episodes, and when he wakes up he’s still on the couch, but now he’s lying horizontally next to Tony, who is also sleeping. They’re facing each other, and Peter starts counting the crow’s feet around Tony’s eyes. It’s impossible when the man is awake, because he’s always smiling for Peter, whether it’s phony or not.

“I’m sorry,” Peter says, and slides gently off the couch. There’s something in the pit of his stomach, but it’s not the usual nausea. 

He pulls on the suit and flies out the window. It’s been three weeks since his last patrol, and just the act of swinging through the night makes him feel almost normal again. He lets himself fall from higher and higher up - lets gravity do all the work - being slinging himself at the last possible moment. It’s very late, or very early depending, and Peter knows just where to go to avoid being seen. 

It’s after the sun comes up that Peter can hear the thrusters in the distance; he didn’t mean to stay out all night, but he didn’t mean for a lot of things to happen. Remarkably, when Tony touches down behind him, he doesn’t say a word. Peter had expected a lot of yelling about curfew and their agreement - an agreement that Peter never verbally acknowledged anyway. 

Instead, he’s brought the great Tony Stark so low he won’t even talk to him. Peter tears up, but at least no one can see. 

Tony lays a hand on Peter’s shoulder, but there are too many degrees of separation. The suits, the unspoken worry. The very idea that they can pretend to be someone they’re not. This seemingly unforgivable thing that Peter doesn’t understand. 

“Race you back?” Peter asks, standing suddenly and shaking off the hand. He doesn’t wait for an answer, but he can hear Tony flank him all the way to the tower. 

Instead of going to his room, Peter climbs through the window and into Tony’s suite. Pepper has been gone for two weeks, and he knows how much Tony misses her. He crawls into their bed, and a few minutes later Tony enters, sans suit. 

He lies down next to Peter and gently pulls off his mask. He fluffs out Peter’s hair and says, “It’s getting long.”

Peter tears up again. “I’ve got a thin patch in the back.” He’s been stubbornly trying to cover it with the extra length, but it’s uncomfortably long for him now. 

Tony nods. “When you’re ready to cut it, just let me know.”

Peter shifts closer to him; Tony lifts a cover over his body and tucks him in. “You going to sleep now?” 

“Naw. Slept enough this week.” Peter just wants to stay close to Tony - to wrap himself up in him and pretend that he doesn’t exist. 

His healthy thoughts that his therapist will love. 

Peter sighs, and rolls over. “Recovery isn’t linear.”

“Recovery isn’t linear,” Tony echoes. It’s a cry of both mutual hatred and mutual respect.

“They could write the next edition of the DSM based solely on the two of us.”

“Peter.”

They lie in silence for another moment. Peter’s stomach is cramping again, and he can admit it’s because he’s hungry, if only to himself.

“I’ve gained another two pounds.” 

“That’s good.”

But when will it be enough? 

They make their way into the kitchen where Tony asks Peter what he wants, and of course he means to ask what Peter wants to eat, but all Peter can think is about how Pinocchio’s quest to be a real boy led him into the stomach of a whale. 

“Just some toast is fine.”


End file.
